


Free

by LaMepriseFangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Demon Dean, Episode: s10e03 Soul Survivor, Gen, Gore, This is an emotional bloodfest., Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4435895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMepriseFangirl/pseuds/LaMepriseFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Let me ask you this, Sammy: If this doesn’t work, we both know what you got to do to me, right? You got the stomach for that, Sam?!"</em>
</p><p>If at the end of Soul Survivor, the cure hadn't worked, what would Sam and Castiel have done next?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free

**Author's Note:**

> For the entire season I assumed Dean's comment about "what you got to do to me" was "try to kill me" but then I remembered what they did to Abaddon the first time they took her down. So I had to write this.

The cure does not work. Castiel starts to be reluctant after the third failed week of injections, but Sam won't stop.

No matter what, he cannot give up on Dean.

*

After months pass, during which Sam tries everything and anything he can think of, Cas dares to suggest it:

"Sam, do you think it's time we... more securely imprison Dean? As you did with Abaddon?"

For a moment the human has no idea what his friend is talking about. Then he remembers the night he and Dean cut up a demon and buried the parts individually, in concrete.

"No."

"But the cure's not working, Sam. And he wouldn't be dead; we could still look for a cure."

"We are not chopping him up!"

*

Sam doesn't sleep very often. On the rare occasions he does, it's an exhausted, deep sleep.

But no amount of tiredness can stop him from hearing Dean's voice shouting his name. He bolts up in the dark. He's out of bed and running to the dungeon before he can think about whether it might be a trap.

He bursts in to find Castiel with a hand over Dean's mouth, trying to keep him quiet. There's a knife, a cleaver, on the floor, and several heavily-warded boxes for holding cursed objects.

"No! Stop!"

Castiel immediately backs off but Sam marches over to him anyway and punches him in the face.

Cas lets it happen. What he doesn't expect is Sam to seize his angel blade and point it at his throat.

"If you try to hurt Dean again, I _will_ use this."

"Sam... it has to be done," the angel pleads. "Just leave the bunker for a few hours, and afterwards I'll show you where-"

"Stay away from my brother."

"This is what Dean would want. I'm taking it upon myself so you don't have to. I'll accept whatever vengeance you see fit when it's over."

Sam has to at least consider it. He can't deny his brother would rather be imprisoned than allowed to hurt others, and Dean would prefer Cas do it than put Sam through the experience. Dean won't be actually dead. And every day they keep him in the dungeon is closer to the day he might escape.

Blinking away hot tears, he lowers the blade.

"Get out before I do something I'll regret," he mutters.

Castiel obeys.

Dean, silent during the exchange, goes for the emotional jugular:

"Please, Sam, don't let him do it."

It's not really his brother, Sam tells himself for the umpteenth time. He has to play the devil's advocate.

"I'm not going to be around forever to say no to him."

"Hah. Like he's not going to be dead a year from now with that borrowed grace."

Sam uses the blade to cut his palm and starts drawing sigils around Dean. Ones that ensure Cas can't reach the demon, can only observe him.

"Thanks," Dean says.

"Don't thank me yet." With that, Sam slumps to the floor, sits against the wall. He loses a little more hope every day and he wonders how many years he'll be able to do this, search for a cure for the Mark. Likely the rest of his natural life, but if Cas doesn't get his grace back, after Sam dies there won't be anyone left to keep trying, or even to keep watch.

*

Castiel's health begins to decline soon after.

"Sam, soon I won't be physically able to... to do what has to be done."

"Not yet," Sam tells him.

*

They have a similar exchange about once a week at first, but then Cas's message changes.

"At this point, I'll need your help. Don't put it off any longer, Sam. I want to spare you as much pain as possible."

Sam doesn't respond.

"You have to!" Cas starts coughing. There's blood on his hand when he's done.

"I can't let you do it."

"Then what do you expect to happen when _you_ are gone?"

Sam gives a cold look.

"He'll be locked down in there. If he gets loose, he'll be trapped in the bunker for a long time. If he gets free after that..."

"He's going to hurt people."

"Do you think I give a fuck?! If I'm dead and he's a demon, I will _never_ see my brother again. And yeah, it's selfish, downright evil to let the world go to hell, but I _don't care_."

"It's not giving up, Sam."

"It's not? Then what is it?"

"It's taking care of yourself the way Dean would want you to. It's doing the right thing, the safe thing. If you get more leads, more possible cures, you can put him back together and try again, as with Abaddon. But right now he is a dangerous demon and we cannot hold him like this forever."

Sam walks away. When he gets to his bedroom, he punches the wall hard, breaking half the bones in his hand. It doesn't even hurt. He falls to his knees.

"God," he whispers, praying for the first time in years, "I can't do this."

Prayer doesn't help when he knows that God isn't listening and doesn't care. He only believes in Dean, could only pray to Dean if that was even possible, but right now what Sam believes in doesn't even exist.

And yet, in Sam's head he can imagine what Dean would say to him:

_"I would never, ever ask this of you, Sam, but this is bigger than us. I can't be killed like other monsters can be killed. If you won't let Cas or anyone else take care of me, it will fall to you."_

Except the Dean who would ask this of Sam does not exist and will never again exist if he does obey. Does it matter, then, if he does? No judgment from Dean awaits him if he gives up.

Sam made a decision, when he held a knife to Dean's throat, that he'd rather die and let Dean walk away than kill him. If the real Dean had been there, though, begging sincerely for him to do it, could he have used that knife?

_"Have you ever said it, that giving up is the last thing you'd do? This is literally the last thing you'd have to do for me."_

It can be the last thing Sam does, period.

_"I said I was proud of us, Sam. I'd be proud of you for doing the impossible."_

Would. But he won't be.

_"If we'd known I would become an unkillable, uncurable demon, and I'd asked you to make this happen, would you have promised me? Would you keep your word?"_

Of course he would have promised. He would have said no at first but he wouldn't have been able to keep saying it. He would have said yes. And would he have meant it? He doesn't know.

What Sam feels for his brother cannot be encapsulated by the word "love." He has to use it for lack of a better term when he asks himself what course of action is the one Dean would _really_ want, which one is the act of love Dean would prefer. Because the agreement not to bring each other back was a lie. Is it really what Dean would want now, to be cut up into little pieces and buried in cement, most likely never to be reassembled?

It's not really giving up. It's just keeping Dean somewhere safe until Sam has more possible cures, maybe ways to try to remove the Mark, more hope of succeeding.

But what if that doesn't work? What if Sam is forced to repeat the experience, without Castiel's help?

Then he'll have gotten some practice in already.

*

A couple mornings later, after Sam's hand has healed thanks to a simple spell, he heads to the dungeon as usual, where Castiel is holding vigil. He braces himself first. He is going to do it today. The unthinkable. The last thing he'll do for Dean.

He opens the doors. He does not see Castiel, only Dean in his chair. Then he checks his corners. And there the angel is, on the floor.

Initially it looks like he's sleeping, but his body is stiff when Sam tries to shake him awake.

"Looks like you're on your own, Sammy."

"Did you do this?"

"Nope. Kinda fun to watch, though."

Sam checks all of Dean's restraints. Still intact. Without saying anything, he leaves the dungeon. There's no time to lose; there's no time to hem and haw.

"Aren't you gonna let me go now?" the demon calls out.

*

When Sam returns, it's with a number of curse boxes, in varying sizes.

Dean is genuinely shocked for a few seconds.

"You're going to try this? Alone?"

"I can't keep watch over you 24/7 and look for possible cures for you. I'm going to spend the next few years looking, then I'll put you back together."

"And if those don't work?"

"I'll just have to do this again."

"...I can't believe I'm hearing this. Sam Winchester, kid who went to Hell because he couldn't stand beating the shit out his brother, is gonna butcher me? Cut me up like a piece of meat?"

Sam takes out the demon-killing knife. First he cuts away most of Dean's clothing.

"Or are you just _really_ desperate for some action, Sammy?"

The human begins to carve devil's traps into various parts of Dean's body. Can't risk them finding their way out of their respective boxes like Abaddon's hand.

Dean shouts in pain and begs him to stop with every cut of the knife. Unfortunately, the work only gets slower as Sam's vision blurs and he feels more and more like vomiting.

"Dean would want this," he repeats to himself. "I would want this if it were me."

When he's done, Dean stops screaming suspiciously soon afterward.

"Would your brother want you to hurt this much?" he asks, looking for a chink in Sam's armor.

"This can't hurt me as much as the hundreds or thousands of people you might kill over the centuries if you walk free."

"Like you care."

"My brother would want me to care."

"I love how you're using that as an excuse, but truth is, you just don't care about your brother as much as he cared about you. He couldn't live without you, but you're just fine without him. You can carve him up like he's just another demon."

No, Dean wouldn't want him to hurt this much, but Sam can't ask someone else to do this. He can't let another person do this, because Dean is his, whatever way, shape, or form he's in.

Sam does give himself a minute to breathe and wipe the tears away. It next occurs to him that it's an underhanded tactic, but he could gag the demon, make it easier to go on. He does so, but not before Dean delivers another line:

"The old me couldn't stand to hear you scream, Sam. Positions reversed? You're the one hurting me."

And so Sam begins the ordeal of cutting his brother's body into pieces, while his brother is conscious. The vocalizations of agony are muffled but don't hurt any less than before. The only thing he's spared from is the pleading to stop.

One foot.

The other foot.

One leg, in two parts. Dean broke that leg, around the time of Sam's hallucinations starting, and was a major pain in the ass the whole time.

The other leg, in one part up to mid-thigh. Sam remembers stitching up a deep cut there, less than two years ago.

There are blood spatters all over his jeans and on the floor.

Left arm, one part coming to just below the elbow including the hand, the other to his shoulder.

Right hand. No scars anymore but Sam remembers every one that used to be there.

Forearm, where the Mark of Cain is.

Upper arm, elbow to shoulder. Dean had a nasty gash once when they were teens, and he let Sam sew him up. It was the first time Sam gave anyone stitches and he was honored that Dean trusted him.

Sam's clothing is soaked with blood in some places, warm and sticking to his skin. A couple specks land near his mouth; he ignores them.

Lower torso, to just below the diaphragm.

Sam sets down the blade. If only he could use it on himself right now.

"If you're ever human again, Dean..."

The demon, reduced to a head and torso, rolls his eyes. He knows everything Sam might say and he doesn't care.

"Last words," Sam says, removing the gag.

Dean looks down at his mutilated body. He tilts his head, pouts thoughtfully, and at last meets the human's eyes.

"It's just a flesh wound."

Sam Winchester, having just dismembered his brother, bursts into hysterical laughter. Guilt and disgust and horror directed toward himself set in quickly but he can't stop. His emotions are utterly out of control. He never laughed this hard at one of Dean's jokes before, in thirty years.

Laughter turns to nausea, and Sam's mind sobers as acid burns his mouth and even gets up his nose as he vomits everything in his stomach.

Dean looks incredibly pleased with himself, even when the gag is replaced. He doesn't fake any screams as Sam resumes his horrific work.

The right side of the torso, split the long way. It includes the spot where Metatron stabbed Dean. All signs of it gone, aside from the black eyes.

The left side, including most of Dean's neck. Sam hopes disconnecting the vocal cords will help keep Dean quiet. The demon, of course, makes the job as hard as he can. But eventually it's done; the head falls to the floor and rolls a couple inches.

The room is silent except for Sam's breathing and the blood dripping on the floor.

"Dean..." His voice breaks and he wipes the tears from his face, only to smear red on his cheeks. He looks around the room at the carnage. "Dean, forgive me."

No reply, taunting or otherwise.

Sam puts his brother's head in a box and slams it shut. He can't look.

He notices that Dean's heart is still beating in his chest, strong and with no sign of letting up. Blood flows out, turning the floor into a shallow pond.

It bleeds out soon enough, but the heart's rhythm is steady yet. The tell-tale heart, Sam thinks. It will beat forever, no matter how far it is from the rest of Dean's body.

One by one, Sam makes sure the boxes are locked, wipes off the blood, and sets them in a mostly dry corner of the dungeon.

Blood-soaked denim leaves a red trail in the hallway as he trudges to the bathroom, where he strips and proceeds to wash himself. As if the blood is filth. Sam hates the thought; no part of Dean can be filth, even if it's demon blood. His brother doesn't deserve this.

But he has to do it, so he does, uses soap to make sure every inch of his skin is free of it.

Sam retires to his bedroom. He doesn't bother getting dressed. That and everything else can wait until the craving for death is past. He sits on his bed, knowing the job isn't done but not knowing if he can finish it now. He cries again, unsure how he has even one tear left.

*

The box containing the physical Mark of Cain stays inside the bunker, in a small storeroom. Sam places extra warding symbols around it and puts it in a plain, unassuming cardboard box. He even finds a spell to make it invisible.

He chooses to bury the other boxes, in cement, in as many locations as he can bear to drive to.

One is interred near the ashes of Bobby's house.

One is put in the ground near where their father helped them kill the yellow-eyed demon and where Sam found out that his brother had sold his soul for him.

One is in the very grave Sam first dug for his brother, near Pontiac, Illinois. The coffin is rotting away underground. He leaves the wooden gravemarker.

Two of the boxes are buried in Lawrence, one of them not far from Dean's childhood home, the other in Stull Cemetery directly where Sam jumped into the Cage. The graveyard looks much the same as it did five years ago, except now Sam is utterly alone. It's there he knows he can't go on.

*

The exact coordinates of Dean's body exist only in Sam's mind once he returns to the bunker.

He utterly falls apart once locked inside. Sure, he drove, he interacted with humans a little, he passed for a pathetic guy for a couple weeks, but now there's nothing holding him together. Who was he kidding, with the idea that he would be able to keep functioning enough to find possible cures? He sliced up his brother. He doesn't know how anymore; maybe God did listen and help. There's no relief now, simply the physical sensations of cutting into Dean's flesh and bones flooding Sam's brain. Scent, sound, feel, sight, taste. When he sleeps, his nightmares are simply the horrific memories of his actions.

This time, Sam decides at last, he is going to give in to what he's wanted to do every single time his brother has died. He adds one more step, however.

"Whoever helped me before... God, Death, anyone... please put me back in the Cage."

*

Sam wakes up in the Impala, windows wide open as Dean cruises down the highway. He looks so young, so carefree. The amulet Sam gave him is around his neck.

"Sam, you can't _not_ sing along to this!" Dean turns up the radio. Queen is playing, Bohemian Rhapsody to be precise. Dean tunelessly joins Freddie Mercury.

Months after Jessica's death, Dean finally caught Sam in a good enough mood to humor him when Dean wanted his little brother to lighten up. The twenty-two year old finally joined in for _He's just a poor boy, from a poor family / Spare him his life from this monstrosity!_ Dean's huge grin gave way only to the next lyric.

Sam refuses to play along this time.

"No!" he shouts at no one in particular. "I don't want this! Get me the fuck out of here and put me where I fucking belong!"

He escapes the car and runs, finding his way to a forest he doesn't recognize. There's nothing to do but yell and punch trees and destroy everything around him in his agonized rage.

*

The memories change and rotate. All of Sam's good memories, most of them with Dean. Sam ignores them.

It never stops hurting, knowing that he gave up on his brother, gave up on life, only to go to Heaven, to a supposed reward. It's no reward if he's not sharing it with Dean. Why would they put him here after what he's done?

Sometimes he shouts at the sky, demanding they put him in Hell. If he goes to Hell, he'll become a demon sooner or later and this won't hurt anymore. Other times he just yells at the people in his memories because it's easier to direct anger at a "living" being. They never react, of course.

Months, years, maybe decades pass, and Sam only rarely yells at the angels who have to be hearing him one way or another. Nothing changes.

***

It was so kind of Death to give back the toy he'd stolen, Lucifer thinks. Silently, for centuries, he watches Sam's misery, intrigued to find out whether "Heaven" can change a pure human soul into a demon.


End file.
